


constantly, consistently, continually, you

by lovethatlasts



Category: Riverdale (TV 2017)
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Archie Andrews Needs a Hug, Betty Cooper Needs a Hug, F/M, barchie
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-06
Updated: 2020-05-06
Packaged: 2021-03-03 04:22:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,198
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24038812
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lovethatlasts/pseuds/lovethatlasts
Summary: ❝if i could, i’d make it all come true.if i could, i’d be the one for you.❞Sometimes, it seemed as though they were meant to be—only, in another universe. Perhaps they’d get the timing right on another planet, perhaps they’d love each other freely in another world.[WORK IN PROGRESS]
Relationships: Archie Andrews & Betty Cooper, Archie Andrews/Betty Cooper, Betty Cooper & Kevin Keller, Betty Cooper & Veronica Lodge, Cheryl Blossom/Toni Topaz
Comments: 4
Kudos: 25





	constantly, consistently, continually, you

**Author's Note:**

> the title of this fic originates from a quote i found online. i thought it described betty and archie’s relationship quite well, and decided to use it.  
> this is my first fic, and i’m afraid it isn’t beta read, so if you find any mistakes, kindly let me know.  
> for updates and info, you can follow me on twitter at cherriestopazes!  
> with that said, enjoy :)

** RIVERDALE REMAINED UNCHANGED** , even after five years.

Betty Cooper, Yale graduate and intern at New Haven Register, sat in the passenger seat of her mother’s car. The newest singer on the radio was crooning softly, his voice but a murmur against the harsh storm raging beyond the windows of the car. Next to her, seated in front of the steering wheel, was her mother.

The atmosphere within the car was pleasant—or at least, it seemed to be. Betty’s mother, Alice, was humming along to the music, her painted lips sealed into a peaceful smile. She portrayed happiness perfectly, dancing eyes and all.

Betty, however, didn’t feel as well. She bobbed her head along, returning all the smiles her mother sent her way, but really, she felt as though she was about to fall apart.

She had hoped to never return to Riverdale.

The town and everything within served as nothing but a reminder of her dark past, of her murderous father, of her sister’s betrayal, of her true heartbreak. Her last memories of the ‘town with pep’ were draining, and even now, after five years, they’d make her stomach twist with guilt and regret (and perhaps the slightest bit of longing for what could’ve been).

She had left Riverdale with a heavy heart, thinking not of her bright future, but of the people she’d let down—and the boy she had foolishly let go. In the middle of the night, she had escaped, disappearing without a goodbye. As the bus she had boarded finally left Riverdale, she had shut her eyes, vowing to herself that she’d never return, ever.

She felt stupid now for thinking that she’d be able to escape her hometown for good. It hovered above her, a cloud of nostalgia, always ready to drown her in the tattered remnants of tainted memories. Riverdale was something she could never truly leave behind—it’d always linger, be it in the dead cat that would appear in her dreams, or in the flashes of red she would sometimes see when she closed her eyes.

When her mother had called, asking her to return for Nana Rose’s funeral, Betty had refused. She was an adult now, and she was fully capable of making her own decisions. But her mother had been adamant, and had, shockingly enough, shown up at Betty’s front door, telling her to pack her things and come with. They had argued for days, but after Alice had burst into tears, begging for her return, Betty had given in.

”I’ll stay for a day,” she had said, desperate to calm Alice. “Once the funeral is over, I’ll leave.”

As the welcoming sign became visible, however, Betty began to feel horribly frazzled. She hadn’t thought things through, had she? Even just attending Nana Rose’s funeral could completely destroy her—she hadn’t thought of Cheryl, who, without a question, was probably already back (and who Betty still hadn’t forgiven), of Kevin, of the rest of her classmates, of  _them_. Riverdale was supposed to be a chapter in her life she’d never revisit, and yet, here she was.

“Mom,” said Betty hesitantly. “I was thinking, and maybe I shouldn’t attend the funeral—”

“You must, Elizabeth!” interrupted Alice. “I understand that you’re nervous, but you’ve never visited once in the last five years.”

“Well, maybe I haven’t been visiting for a reason,” said Betty sharply. “The only reason I even agreed to coming back here was because you were crying, and I didn’t know what to do. Now, though, I can tell it was a bad decision. Are you forgetting that I’m an adult? You can’t boss me around, not anymore.”

Alice sighed. “Betty, I’m not asking you to stay for a month. I know you weren’t on good terms with everyone when you left, but this is your chance to start over. Look, just—just do this for me, please.”

Betty had never felt so frustrated. Still, she stayed silent. Arguing with her mother wouldn’t help her case, not right now, at least. No, she would wait until they were safe inside the Coopers’ house and then start. So, exhaling heavily, she shifted in her seat, closed her eyes and decided to sleep. 

* * *

Betty awoke to Alice’s voice in her ear, ordering her to sit up. Mumbling incoherently, she complied and opened her eyes, her mother’s beaming face being the first sight to greet her.

”We’re home,” said Alice cheerfully. “Welcome back, Betty.”

Betty immediately felt rather unsettled. She had missed most of the journey, it seemed, and to suddenly be faced with confronting the place of most of her bad memories—she wanted to run back home, back to New Haven.

It was too late, now, however, so, trying her best not to grimace, she opened the door, unbuckled her seatbelt and stepped out and into the cold night. The ground below her feet was wet and muddy, leaves of different sizes covering most of it’s length. It smelled like rain outside, and, apart from the crickets chirping merrily from somewhere beyond, things were dead silent.

A wave of nausea washed over Betty. She wasn’t used to this kind of silence, not anymore, and it felt like a punch in the stomach. How strange it was, that she had longed for peace and quiet during her college days, and now that she temporarily had those, she wanted to do nothing but scream.

(Grief worked in funny ways, sometimes.)

Her first glance at her old residence made her feel slightly uncomfortable. Her first glance at the house next to her old residence, however, had her heart lurching violently. Betty willed herself to not look at the house and continued trudging along the pathway that led to the front door of the Coopers’ residence, trying desperately to ignore the tears that were steadily and quickly making their way into her eyes.

_No going back_ , she reminded herself sternly, as she had for the last five years. _You were too late.  
_

“Betty!” called Alice frantically from behind. “Won’t you help me with the bags? Turn around and come here!”

Betty inhaled deeply. Normally, she’d do as her mother wished, but _his_ house was just a few feet away, and to turn would mean to look, and she couldn’t handle the sheer heartbreak and rage that would envelope her. Whilst she had somewhat successfully tucked away her memories of Riverdale, she had not even attempted to forget him, having known that she’d fail completely. 

“I can’t!” yelled Betty rather shakily over her shoulder. “I have a bit of a headache, so I’m just going to sleep. Leave the bags in the car, mom, I’ll get them out in the morning.”

And so, brushing aside both her mother’s angry huff and the painful tightening of her chest, she rushed up to the door, unlocked it with the key her mother had handed to her at the bus stop, and slipped inside.

A minute or so later, when she was inside her old bedroom, Betty sat on her old bed, too tired to even feel nostalgic, her surroundings blurry, and desperately prayed that _he_ wasn’t back, too.

The ‘he’ being Archibald Andrews, of course.


End file.
